


Embers and Onyx

by sinspiration



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragon Shiro (Voltron), FYI, Firemage Keith, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Keith had a difficult time growing up, M/M, Rating May Change, Shiro isn't always in dragon form tho, Slow Burn, bc I am Ambitious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-03-17 13:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18966433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinspiration/pseuds/sinspiration
Summary: When Keith is six years old, cold and impatient, he makes a fire in the fireplace just as he’s watched his father do many times. He does not use a match.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a twitter fic. then it got uh... Long. 
> 
> It'll probably continue to get long tbh.

When Keith is six years old, cold and impatient, he makes a fire in the fireplace just as he’s watched his father do many times. He does not use a match.

Keith’s father watches with wide but unsurprised eyes as the flames roar, and Keith gets a stern talking to about when he is and isn’t allowed to let flames play through his fingertips.

 

*

 

When Keith is eight, his father gives him several large, flat pieces of wood cut from a stump. “To practice control,” his father tells him. “If you have something in you, best to know how to use it.” Keith is thrilled, and spends hours trailing his fingers in different patterns over their surfaces. 

Several weeks later, he proudly presents his father with the best one. The wood has been burned darker and lighter all across it, in the shape of a stag. His father praises him and mounts it over the fireplace, and it makes Keith smile, to see it every morning. To look at what he made and see it hanging in a place of honor.

 

*

 

When Keith is ten, his father presents him with a necklace: a glass pendant hung on a leather cord. Keith loves it and swears to never take it off. His father tells him to keep the necklace hidden from sight, and Keith has no reason to question him. He likes that it’s there and only his. A hidden treasure.

When he holds it, he feels as though the glass glows warm.

 

*

 

When Keith is eleven, his father leaves their little shack to gather firewood, just as he has done many times before. He does not return. His body is found by some of the townsfolk, one of whom remembers that Keith’s father had a son.

Keith is allowed to pack a small bag of things before he is taken away. He takes the stag, his pendant necklace tucked away underneath his shirt.

 

*

 

When Keith is thirteen, he has already spent several years learning that the world is more unpleasant than his father made it out to be. He has been in a new house for four months and is treated more like a servant than a son, but he is not afraid of hard work or cruel words and his bed is warm even if his food is not. And though usually he is too hungry to wait before eating, since he is served last and then left alone he sometimes takes a few extra seconds to heat his bowl.

There are two other boys in the house, older and much more beloved. There comes a day they decide it will be fun if one of them holds Keith down while the other uses Keith’s stag as kindling.

The one holding him ends up screaming as if burned. Keith’s own tears have barely dried before he is turned out.

 

*

 

When Keith is fifteen he is completely on his own and feels that he is better for it. He works odd jobs as he finds them and is currently a farmhand working harvest in exchange for meals, a roof, and the occasional coin. He’s ready to drop from exhaustion at the end of the day, but the straw in the barn is soft enough.

One night the farmer comes for him.

The barn goes up in flames and Keith spends the next three days running.

 

*

 

When Keith is eighteen, he helps a man get his cart out of the mud. The man turns out to own a stable, and he offers Keith a job if he wants one. Keith wants. He works hard and keeps his head down as best he can, and while the others at the stable are rough, they are satisfied with how he pulls his weight. He learns how to ride, and it’s the closest he’s come to being happy in almost ten years.

He is there for a birthday, then another, and then a noble who frequents the stable makes advances that Keith rebuffs. The noble has friends.

Keith breaks two noses and kicks in a knee.

The stable actually sides with him, but law enforcers do not. Dread curls in Keith’s gut when he hears his punishment will be indentured service to the noble he has wronged.

 

Anything else is better than that and Keith knows how to run, but this time there are too many witnesses to what transpires next.

So when Keith is just turned twenty, he is clapped in cold iron and sentenced to die.

It’s an irony that he’ll be burned at a stake.

 

* * *

 

The day dawns clear and bright and there is almost a merry sort of ceremony about the town as Keith is led to the pyre. Burnings don’t happen very often anymore, but not only does Keith have magic, he is now a known criminal. That makes him doubly dangerous, and the town is happy to have him removed. There is also a kind of strange pride in the fact that they have their very own witch to burn.

As it stands, the cold iron shackles burn his wrists hotter than any fire ever has. He can fight past the pain, but in the end he is bound and outnumbered. There will no escaping this.

He is already black and blue from the night he spent in chains and with company. His body aches. His wrists are raw.

And Keith is… tired.

There is a cheer as the flame is lit, and Keith watches dispassionately as the hay stacked around his feet catches fire, as black smoke blocks out his view of the sun and sky and winds its way into his throat.

The flames licking around his body don’t hurt him. He dimly registers the crowd shifting in dissatisfaction at the lack of pained screaming, but by then it has become a struggle to breath and all he can hear is his own coughing and harsh, ragged gasps.

He closes his eyes and thinks, _This is it. This is how I die._

His pendant glows hot against his skin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flying is Shiro’s favorite pastime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still doing the thing!

Flying is Shiro’s favorite pastime. He will happily spend days on end in the air, stopping only to snap up food or quench his thirst or rest for a moment before he again takes to the sky. 

Usually he is content to stay within the boundaries of his own territory, but sometimes the urge to explore further is too powerful to resist. When this happens, he leaves his caves in the trust of the land’s queen, who knows him to be a powerful ally and who has proven herself to be one in turn. 

It is not her job to protect his treasures, for Shiro has his own magics to do so, but she does warn hunters away. No one in her kingdom would dare to hunt a dragon; they consider even catching glimpse of one a privilege. But foreigners are much more close-minded. The smart ones do heed her warnings, but the foolish ones do not and brashly seek fortune and glory. 

Shiro gets no pleasure out of killing, but he has done so many times, when others force his hand.

He has been flying for six days now, covering vast scores of land purely for the pleasure of it and, as always, is keeping an eye out for anything of interest. For Shiro, this often means anything human. 

Humans are interesting creatures. Shiro knows kind ones, like the Queen and many of her subjects. He has also known incredibly cruel ones, and though he is slow to anger, there is nothing that draws his ire faster than someone hurting another without reason.

As he flies, he suddenly feels a--it could only be described as a ping in the back of his mind. Not words but a  _ feeling. _ A call. 

If he concentrates, it sounds like a plea.

Shiro has lived a long time and seen many things. He knows better than to ignore something like this, even if he doesn’t yet know what it is. The greater attention he pays to the ping, the louder it gets. 

He banks right and follows.

 

***

 

Soon Shiro is passing over a town. There seems to be some sort of celebration going on, with a huge bonfire in the town square. It doesn’t appear all that exciting to be honest. Shiro is used to much more elaborate celebrations where he is from. But the pull gets stronger as he gets closer and he realizes that there is nothing to do but join the celebration.

In the East, Shiro's home, a dragon sighting would be cause for awe and wonder, and perhaps even a celebration all its own. This far west Shiro is uncertain how he would be received, so he takes some distance to land, then slings off the pack he carries with him and shifts. 

As always, the only part of him he cannot make appear fully human is his right arm. He is powerful and has access to magics aside from his own, but even that cannot change his curse-riddled limb. It is the same as a dragon and in the guise of a human; the limb is blackened, as if burned. 

It does not matter. From his pack he pulls out clothes of fine quality, and dressed he looks no less than a lord. The gloves he wears hide his hand, and coupled with his stature and a gold-heavy purse, he is not often met with suspicion. 

Ideally he would ride into town but he has no horse, and though it is a pleasant day to walk, he does not wish to wait. Every second that passes, the pull he feels grows stronger, the tug a little more desperate. Instead, from his pack he pulls out a ring. He slides it onto a finger and twists the gemstone inlaid within it.

Moments later he is in the town square, his arrival unnoticed thanks to the magic of his ring, but his presence is not ignored for long. Whispers start at once, about the sudden visit of this handsome, wealthy stranger. 

He holds his head high and proud and walks forward, toward the burning pyre, for there is no doubt that is where the call is emanating. Perhaps a magical item that the townsfolk are trying to rid themselves of? Or a celebration of energy with enough power that it called out to him?  People part ways and allow him a clear path to–

To…

There is a man in the center of the pyre. And he is alive.

He is not screaming in pain, but he might be succumbing to the smoke and unable to even cry out. Shiro knows first hand how a being might die to flames. But death by burning is barbaric. The man must have committed the most heinous of crimes. 

The tug gets stronger still.

“What is this?” Shiro asks. “What has he done?”

“Magic,” a man says, sounding almost proud. He is dressed well, though not as well as Shiro is. His face is sorely bruised.

Shiro casts another glance toward the pyre. “Magic is not illegal.”

“It is when you use it to hurt your betters,” the man replies with a conspiratorial grin.

Shiro goes hot. “That is all he has done?”

The man raises an eyebrow at Shiro’s tone. It is clear he was expecting more comraderie from a man of Shiro’s ilk. “There needs to be more reason than that?”

They are burning a man alive for something barely a crime, and the tug Shiro feels reaches a crescendo and starts to fade.

_ No. _

He rushes forward and into the flames, ignoring the gasps and cries from the people. The fire does not hurt him as heat cannot, and his clothes and pack are spell-protected. At this point the man is limp on the pyre, the ropes that held him burned clean through. Shiro scoops him into his arms and twists the gem on his ring, calling up more power than he’d expected to need.

He arrives back home, in his caves, the gem of his ring dusted to powder. Shiro cares little. Things can be replaced. He gets the feeling this human cannot be.

He heads to his inner caves and then to a smaller grouping of four that he can only frequent in his human form. He’s had friends and smaller lovers stay within these, and he keeps them lavishly furnished. One room is particularly plush. It is the one Shiro gives to his lovers, as well as the one he uses for himself when he is so inclined.

Now he lays this man down on the opulent bed and hopes he is not too late.

The man is covered in soot, his skin and clothes black with it, and his breathing is shallow, his pulse faint. The smoke from the fire is undoubtedly curled within his lungs. Luckily Shiro is no stranger to those afflicted by smoke, and he has ways to help.

He runs to the fourth of the small caves, which is one of the workrooms where he keeps things for dealing with humans. He figured it was best to keep it close, and this has helped many times. Now he riffles through bottles until he finds the two he needs, as well as a bowl, towel, and a pitcher he fills with water. It is a bit of a juggle to carry everything, so he throws it all on the first flat thing he can find--a shield propped up in the corner--and leaves the room.

The man has not moved, and Shiro wastes no time ripping open his tattered shirt to smooth the salve he has brought over the man’s chest. He must move a beautiful glass pendant aside in order to do so, and it is a jolt to touch it, but a greater jolt to lay his hands on the man’s skin. 

It is something he will consider later. For now, the green salve will pull out the smoke and clear the air passageways. It works quickly, but Shiro opens the other bottle anyway. 

To a normal being the bottle might appear empty. But within it is air Shiro gathered at the top of the tallest mountain he as ever seen, and it is pure and clean. As the salve works its magic, Shiro directs the air into the man’s nose, coaxing it into his lungs until they are able to more fully expand.

The man starts breathing easier, as does Shiro. The immediate danger has passed for the moment. 

Now he fills the bowl with water and dampens the towel and sets to cleaning some of the soot. It wipes away to reveal smooth skin, not the burns Shiro was expecting. He is relieved as well as even more curious.  _ He’d done magic, _ he remembers the nobleman saying. 

The man’s skin is unusually pale for someone who is no doubt a laborer, considering his work-roughened hands, however, Shiro realizes, if the heat of fire cannot burn him, it makes an odd sort of sense that the heat of the sun might not either. 

By the time Shiro gets the man as clean as he is able with a simple cloth, the salve has turned clear. Shiro watches the rise and fall of his chest and is relieved to hear that his breaths no longer sound like a struggle.

He goes to the room’s wardrobe to fetch new clothes and carefully undresses the man. His jaw clenches at the skin then revealed, for though it is not burned, it is freshly bruised, with angry welts and cuts to act as accents, as well as old scars. More cruelty. Shiro will make his own decisions once the man wakes up, but already he doubts that any of it was deserved.

He uses the man’s nudity as a chance to clean him more fully, using oils that collect the soot and grime. It’s impossible to ignore how attractive he is, with his pretty face and lithe, well-muscled form. Shiro’s lips tighten further at the placement of some of the bruises that pepper his body. 

He treats the wounds as best he can and then redresses the man in the soft things chosen from the wardrobe. As he slips the man’s arms through the sleeves of the shirt, Shiro jostles the metal cuffs around his wrists and the man winces in his sleep. Scowling, Shiro rips open the metal to reveal raw, redded skin. This too, is treated, before he wraps each wrist in a clean bandage. 

He leaves again to empty out the bowl of dirty water, to dispose of the remains of the metal cuffs, to fetch something to soothe the man’s throat when he wakes, and returns just in time to see the man gasp, eyes flying open, before he doubles over, coughs wracking his body. His panic is evident.

“Easy,” Shiro says, voice gentle. “Just try to relax, and the coughing will pass. Here, I’ve brought you something for your throat–””

The man’s head jerks up as Shiro walks forward, and Shiro physically watches every muscle in his body lock up in raw terror.

Shiro stops walking and holds up his hands. “I won’t hurt you. You’re safe here.”

Though still frozen in fear, the man sneers. “Safe–” he is interrupted with by a cough “-safe as long as I–” more coughing “-as long as I bend over for you?”

“Safe as long as you don’t try to do me harm,” Shiro says firmly. He keeps the anger he feels out of his voice, for it is not anger directed at his guest. “That is all I ask from you. You are welcome to be on your way once you have recovered.”

His guest stares at him, all suspicion. Shiro cannot blame him. “My name is Takashi Shirogane,” he tries. “I prefer to go by Shiro. I… disagreed in letting a man burn to death. So I brought you here.”

The man swallows, gaze flickering around the room, never leaving Shiro for more than a moment. He rubs at his wrists and then glances down at them, obviously shocked to see them bandaged and no longer encircled by cold iron. He looks back up at Shiro. “You took off my cuffs.” It is not a question, though it is said with disbelief. 

“Most of what I have cannot be burned,” Shiro says. “That includes myself.”

The man continues to rub at his wrists. “So they told you.”

“They told me nothing save the reason you were being punished.” This time Shiro cannot keep the hardness out of his voice. “Disrespect does not deserve a death sentence.”

“I broke his nose,” the man says warily.

“Why?"

He frowns. The words seem to take him aback.

Shiro asks again. “Why did you hurt him?"

The man looks away and does not answer.

“I’m guessing they tried to hurt you first,” Shiro says quietly. He’s drawn several conclusions already. And they might soon be proven wrong, but he doesn’t think they will be. “I’m guessing they always tried to hurt you first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am I incapable of writing Not!slow burn if the characters do not already know each other? pROBABLY


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith sits on a bed softer than anything he’s ever touched, in clothes finer than he’s ever worn, and tries to breathe. Breaths get easier and easier, and soon it is as if he had never been choking on the pyre at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to not know what I'm doing.

This stranger--Shiro--he does not say much and asks Keith to say even less. He tells Keith his name and does not seem bothered when Keith does not give up his. Instead of coming closer, he places the mug he was carrying on the floor and then takes a step back.

“This is a tonic that will help your throat and quench your thirst,” he says. “There are other clothes in the wardrobe if you aren’t happy with the ones I’ve chosen. Bathing facilities are in the room to the left of this one.”

He pauses, as if expecting an answer, so Keith nods warily. Shiro continues. “I’ll take my leave of you. Call my name if you need anything.” He turns, then adds, over his shoulder, “Again, you are welcome to go whenever you wish, but I do not suggest trying to leave without me to guide you out.”

And then he is gone.

Keith sits on a bed softer than anything he’s ever touched, in clothes finer than he’s ever worn, and tries to breathe. Breaths get easier and easier, and soon it is as if he had never been choking on the pyre at all. As if he had not accepted death. 

Except the top cover on the bed is filthy with soot and he still smells like smoke and-- _ how _ . He doesn’t remember being pulled from the fire, but there is no doubt that’s what Shiro had done.

Shiro had said that he and his things were not easily burned. Keith swallows and reaches up to grip his pendant. As always, it is a warm glow against his palm. A comfort and a worry. He wonders who Shiro is. Wonders what he can do. Wonders what he wants.

Time passes and Shiro does not come back into the room. 

Eventually Keith climbs off the bed. His legs shake but support him. He crosses the room to the mug and picks it up. It is still warm, and when he sniffs the golden liquid within it, it smells sweet. He sighs. There’s really nothing he can do, is there? So he takes a cautious sip and it is indeed warm and sweet and good and does not seem to cause him any ill.

He finishes the drink. Shiro still does not appear.

Keith creeps toward the doorway and peers out. His eyes widen as he takes in the stone walls and high ceilings and open archways, some of which are so great they could fit three kings-fit horses standing side-by-side with men astride them.

Left, Shiro had said. So left he goes, and in that room there are several basins, attached to the wall in different locations, as well as a wide pool sunk into the floor. It is filled with water, and steam is curling up from its surface.

Keith looks around the room. It seems he is alone within it.

He would… he would really like to take a bath. And a warm one is a luxury he hasn’t had in almost a decade. Even though he could warm enough water for a bath, he’d dared not do it since his father passed.

Keith steps closer to the pool and Shiro does not appear. He pulls off the top, and then his pants, and he remains alone in the room. This is when he notices the dried salve on his torso, covering some of his cuts and bruises. So not only did Shiro dress him, he tended to him too. It’s a strange bit of knowledge to have.

The water will no doubt wash the salve away, but Keith would prefer feeling clean. He carefully dips a toe into a water, then a foot, then sinks into it and there is no noise save the ripples from the bath.

There is sand on the bottom of the pool, and he scrubs his skin down with it. Rinses his hair. It is strange, as the water does not darken with dirt and dust, but Keith supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. There is definitely magic here, and Keith is not in a position to be worried about the blatant use of it.

He does not linger though he is tempted to, and climbs out of the pool to find towels on a shelf against one wall. They are softer than any rag he’s ever used to wash himself, which is relief because the cloth is gentle on his skin. The salve did indeed wipe off but the cuts he had are no longer bleeding. The bandages on his wrists are soaked, so he removes them before he redresses. His winces when he sees the state his wrists are in. But at least they aren’t burning.

With nothing else to do, he leaves the room, and pokes his head down the hallway. What he sees is a vast network of caves, built in stone, and he understands what Shiro meant by needing a guide. If Keith were to venture out, there is no doubt he would get hopelessly lost. 

He returns to the room he woke up in and is startled to find that the soot-covered quilt on the bed as been removed and replaced. There is a covered tray sitting on a table next to a mug and pitcher. When he cautiously approaches and eventually lifts the lid, it is to find a bowl of delicious-smelling stew, a large hunk of bread, some cheese, and a bowl filled with pale orange pieces. His mouth waters. He has had nothing to eat or drink since yesterday morning, save the mug of tonic he’d drunk earlier.

He looks about the room again. It is still quiet and the food seems to be left for him alone. Keith is already indebted to Shiro and worries about what will be demanded of him. But a meal would at least give Keith strength.

He eats, saving the orange pieces for last, and when he tries one it bursts sweetly on his tongue. He’s never had anything like it, and again he wonders where he has been taken and who Shiro is.

There’s nothing for it now. He’s here and helpless and willing to fight if he must, always willing to fight if he must, but Shiro has so far tended to his wounds, allowed him a bath, given him a meal, and provided him with privacy. Keith does not trust well or easily, but he suppose, if nothing else, that he should at least see what Shiro has to say.

He takes a breath and then hesitantly calls Shiro’s name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just you wait!! soon they'll have an actual conversation!! pROBaBLy


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro will admit to anyone that he has a penchant for beautiful things. It is in his nature to collect them. Protect them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been an utterly terrible week, but at least I have an update?
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy wherever I'm going with this. As it gets longer. and. Longer.

Shiro’s caves are spelled. He can hear his name called from anywhere within them, and in this case, he has not gone far. It is only minutes later that he returns to the room where the man is waiting.

He’s standing in the middle of the room, body tight with tension. Shiro notes that he is clean now, his hair wet and dripping down his back, and he’s pleased by it. That, if nothing else, his guest was comfortable enough to bathe. Clean and dressed in the fine clothes Shiro has provided only further accents his beauty. 

Shiro will admit to anyone that he has a penchant for beautiful things. It is in his nature to collect them. Protect them. 

People are not things and they are not to be kept, and he knows this fact intrinsically, as well as he knows his right arm. He will not be a threat to this man in any form unless he is given reason, and that includes keeping him here should he wish to leave. But Shiro cannot quell the protectiveness he feels, even while knowing nothing about this stranger. 

Knowing nothing except that it seems as though the world has been very unkind to him.

A glance to the table reveals that the man eaten. It’s a satisfying thing. Shiro hopes he had enjoyed the orange slices. He’d chosen them specifically because oranges tended not to grow in the area Shiro had found him.

“How are you feeling?”

He watches the man wet his lips with his tongue. “Better.” His voice is less of a rasp.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Shiro says. He gives his guest a soft smile, hoping to ease him. He has so many questions. Some he will not ask even amid his curiosity, for he does not need to know such things like the events that lead to the man being on a pyre. Others he is desperate to learn the answers to. Why he feels such a pull to this man. What other magics he might possess. His name.

So this, he will ask. “I would like to know your name.”

The man exhales shallowly. “It’s Keith.”

“Keith.” Shiro tastes the name. It suits him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Keith.”

Keith swallows and says nothing.

“You are afraid of me,” Shiro notes sadly, though he’s not surprised. He knows that even as a human, he cuts an imposing figure. He is large and strong, with an air of nobility, and Keith has a lot of hurts. Further, Shiro has brought him to a strange place and Keith has no reason to trust him. Keith most likely has no reason to trust anyone. 

Keith glares. “No, I’m not.”

Shiro takes a step forward. Keith takes half a step back before he catches himself and glares harder, fists clenching at his sides. Getting ready for a fight. One, Shiro realizes from the way his breathing changes, Keith clearly does not expect to win. 

It proves Shiro’s point, but it gives him no sense of accomplishment. “Not afraid. Wary, then. Is there something I can do to ease that?”

Keith’s gaze darts around the room and then tracks up and down Shiro’s body before he opens his mouth again. “What do you want? Just… tell me.”

It’s a question Shiro had predicted would come, and he’d spent time thinking about his answer. Shiro knows that saying he expects nothing in return will not soothe his guest. Instead it would have him jumping at corners, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

His body is stiff, braced for whatever Shiro will demand, and Shiro knows, he knows that he should offer to let Keith leave. That would show him Shiro truly desires nothing from him, except his health and safety.

However, Keith is far from where Shiro found him. Shiro doesn’t want him to set out with nothing, without a place to go home to, a job that would allow him to provide for himself. At the very least he wants to send Keith on his way with a purse full of gold. Be a guide for him to let him learn the land. Or take him wherever Keith would wish to go. But all that would require trust. Time.

“I have a proposition for you,” Shiro says carefully.

Keith nods, jaw tight. 

“I have a treasury,” Shiro says. “It is vast, but I have no time to set it to rights.” Not entirely true; he just doesn’t have the patience for it, or he gets easily distracted going over each item. “I’d like a week of your time to organize a portion of it for me. In exchange I will consider your debt repaid.”

Keith blinks. “What?”

“A week will not be enough time to set it fully to rights,” Shiro continues. “But if you so chose, I will pay you for each additional week you spend.”

Keith’s gaze flickers around the room again. “Pay?” he asks, voice uncertain.

“A room here, for it is close to your work, board, for I can provide that easily, and five coins per week, of my choosing.”

It’s an offer that is more than generous. Even just five coppers a week, along with room and board, would be enough to give Keith a new start should he chose to pass several weeks working and saving and regaining his strength. Of course, Shiro also doesn’t plan to pay in copper, but Keith does not yet know that.

It had, of course, crossed Shiro’s mind that Keith, once let loose in a treasure room, might try to leave after filling his pockets. His only worry in that regard is Keith getting lost in the caves, since he wouldn’t begrudge Keith a stolen purse or two. Considering things, it’s the least Keith would deserve from the world at large. However, Shiro doesn’t think thievery is a true concern.

“A week,” Keith says. “And then we're even?”

“Unless you desire to keep working.” Shiro hopes he will. Hopes he'll settle just enough to want to stay a little longer. 

Keith has not gotten any less tense, and for the briefest of moments, an image flashes in Shiro's mind. A barn ablaze, and Shiro's curiosity and concern only grows, for he knows it is not his memory.

But when Keith opens his mouth again, it is to quietly say, “Okay.”

It sounds defeated and Shiro hates it, but he only allows his smile to show. “Good. Do you feel well enough to begin now, or do you wish to rest some more?”

“I can start now.”

Another thing Shiro had expected. “Alright. Then I would like to rebandage your wrists first.”

Keith glances down at his hands, half covered by the long sleeves of the top Shiro had provided, as if he’d forgotten that his wrists were red and blistered. “I’m fine,” he says quickly, pulling them in close to his body. “I don’t need more tending.”

“If you can move with less pain, the work will be easier and thus go faster,” Shiro points out.”If you truly wish to repay me, you will get as much done as you can.”

Keith digests this, clearly none to happy with Shiro’s logic. “Fine.” 

“Sit on the bed please,” Shiro says as he moves to grab the bandages and salve he’d left waiting on the side table.

Keith eyes the bed with trepidation but gingerly sits, perched right at the edge. Shiro pulls up a chair instead of sitting next to him and gestures for Keith to hold his hand out. When Keith does so, Shiro carefully pushes up the sleeve to apply the salve, smoothing it on as gently as he can. Keith winces but otherwise doesn’t move, and for several minutes the only sounds in the room aside from Shiro’s work is their breathing.

When Shiro is finished, he forces himself to let go of Keith’s wrist and he sets his supplies back on the side table. He chances a smile at Keith. “Finished. Thank you for allowing me to tend to them.”

This close, he can see Keith’s eyes clearly. They are a wondrous purple, as beautiful as any gemstone, and now confusion slightly edges out suspicion and fear. After a moment they blink, a sweep of lashes.

“They feel better,” Keith says hesitantly, curling his hands back into himself. “Thanks.”

Shiro honestly hadn’t expected a thank-you amid Keith’s wariness, and it’s a warm surprise. “I will show you to where you will be working. Follow me, please.”

Keith rises and Shiro begins to lead him to his smallest treasure cave. He has several, scattered throughout the mountain in which he lives, but the smallest, while still large enough to fit his true form, is the closest to his four human-sized caves. Of those four caves, two are bedrooms, one is the bathing area, and one is Shiro’s workroom. There is a kitchen as well, also close by, though it is big enough for a dragon to bring his own catches should he desire something less raw. 

In truth, he doesn’t make much use of the kitchen, as he has a spelled cupboard and cooking pot that will produce a variety of meals. The only catches are that they cannot provide food that hasn’t been cooked or baked so he must procure cheese and fresh fruit another way, and they can only create a certain amount of recipes. But those things are all easily taken care of with a purse of gold and a trip to the market. 

He will show Keith to the kitchen later, and teach him how to use it. For now they go in the opposite direction, past the second bedroom and Shiro’s workroom, down a corridor of stone, and into the first large cave on the right. He notices Keith jump a little in surprise when the sconces lining his cave walls light themselves, but otherwise Keith makes no sound until they enter the treasury.

Shiro turns just in time to hear Keith gasp and see his eyes widen as he takes in the room and its contents. Because this treasury is small, he doesn’t keep much coin in it, aside from a few chests (which need to be sorted as well). Mostly it is his collection of items: piles and piles of jewelry and armor, metal and crystal and glass. Literal piles, for though the room contains row upon row of stone shelves, nothing is very well organized. Even the coin chests, open as they are, are hopelessly mixed. The only part of the room that is even slightly in order is the wall in the back. Pockets of stone are carved out all across the wall, big and small, to hold the items within it. His magical treasures, behind a clear spell of protection. Only Shiro can access them, so he’s a little better at keeping them all straight.

While Shiro is proud of his treasures, but he does know that he’s terrible at organizing them. It’s just much less obvious in his larger treasuries, as those are mostly coin and jewels, perfect for napping or rubbing his scales on to get them gleaming. “The only thing you aren’t to touch is the back wall.”

Keith gapes. “You… you want me to organize  _ this _ ?”

“I did tell you it would be quite the undertaking,” Shiro says apologetically. “And I don’t expect you to finish in a week. That’s why I offered payment if you wish to continue working once the week is over.”

“This is a king’s ransom,” Keith whispers.

Shiro can’t help his grin. He likes that Keith finds this impressive, even if it’s his smallest treasury. “More than just one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes? no? progress maybe a little??


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a test, Keith decides once he’s left to his own devices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every character I've ever written experiences debilitating exhaustion. I've noticed this about myself. What could that mean.

It’s a test, Keith decides once he’s left to his own devices. There’s no way Shiro trusts him with this--this unbelievable wealth. That’s impossible. Shiro must be testing him. Gauging Keith’s merit. He doesn’t know  _ why _ but it’s the only explanation. 

It’s happened to him before. The first family he was ever with had a maid a little older than he had been. She'd told him to be careful of anything nice left out, as if lost. _“If_ _you find a coin or a bauble as you sweep, make sure you give it to the Master or Missus at once. It’s a trick you see, to catch out thieves. Prove you’re honest and they might keep you.”_ He’d turned over three pieces of jewelry in the first month, but they hadn’t kept him anyway.

Keith flirts with the idea of taking something and trying to run for barely a moment before he discards the idea. It’s not that he isn’t unwilling to steal if necessary; survival took a backseat to morals long ago. But he has no doubt that Shiro would know if he took something, and Keith doesn’t fancy wandering around a maze of caves until he’s found and punished.

Shiro is impossibly wealthy and undoubtedly powerful and he has Keith both in his debt and at his mercy. Whatever the reasons Shiro had for saving him (and it couldn’t just be out of the kindness of his heart,  _ no one– _ )...

Whatever reasons Shiro had, right now he’s given Keith a task. If nothing else, Keith knows how to work. The food he’d been allowed has lent him some strength and the bath helped ease the ache in his bones and, of course, Keith is alive, not a corpse on a pyre. 

This is how Keith is supposed to pay Shiro back, so Keith is going to roll up his sleeves and get to it.

As much as he wants to dive in and begin, he’s smart enough to know that he has to come up with some sort of plan first. The room is enormous and filled to the brim with riches. If Shiro wants them sorted into any semblance of sense, Keith needs to figure out the best course of action.

He walks around the room, winding around the piles and piles of items. There seems to be three main types of things in the room, aside from coin: armor and weapons (he tries not to wonder too hard about the different styles and sizes, and how some of the pieces are dented and look blackened from heat), jewels and adornments, and art such as urns and vases and statues. The best thing to do, he decides, is to sort it all first. Then he can begin with placing items on shelves.

He looks at the room’s contents again and swallows. Sorting alone could take days, he is sure. 

But there’s nothing to do but begin.

He designates each corner of the room to a different category, with the fourth corner being miscellaneous he doesn’t know what to do with yet. Any coins he finds get thrown into one of the open chests lined up against one wall, next to a large, sturdy looking desk made of some type of polished stone.

It’s a lot, what with picking through piles and lifting up objects, carting things around and walking to and fro. Some pieces are so large or heavy or unwieldy that he can barely lift them. He leaves those where they are, in lieu of dragging them across the stone floor. Maybe Shiro might be willing to let Keith have a wheelbarrow, or some other means of moving bigger things, once Keith proves he’s worth the trouble. 

With no sun to gauge how much time has passed Keith has no idea how long he has been working, but though his body tires, he can’t see any reason to stop. There’s so  _ much _ here, an unbelievable amount of riches, and he has no idea how he’s going to make a dent in just a week. In a dozen weeks. But he has to try. This is the task he was given.

When his stomach makes itself known, he ignores it. He’s already had one good meal today. He may have gotten more used to eating regularly thanks to his job at the stable--the job he  _ had _ at the stable--but he can fall back into older habits easily enough. Shiro will feed him as he sees fit, and Keith isn’t going to ask for more.

He does take one break, to go back down the hall to the bathing area to relieve himself, and while there he gulps down some water from a basin bubbling cold. The water is so cold it almost makes his teeth ache, but in the good way, and it’s crisp and clean and refreshing, more than enough to slake his thirst. He splashes some on his face too, to wake himself up, before he heads back to the treasure room.

Back to sorting, and Keith keeps going, even as his movements grow sluggish and his eyelids heavy. It’s not even a consideration to go through the stone halls to the bedroom he woke up in. He doesn’t belong in that lavish room and Shiro didn’t show him where he was supposed to be sleeping. Though perhaps he meant for Keith to stay in the treasury? That makes sense. It’s Keith’s one purpose here, so it stands to reason that this is where he’s supposed to stay.

Maybe he can rest for just a moment? It’s been a lot, for the last few days, and being so physical after nearly choking to death hasn’t done his lungs any favors. 

He folds himself down against the pile he is currently working on, blearily realizing that he’s yet to throw the coins all over this stretch of floor into a chest. And he knows, he  _ knows _ he shouldn’t close his eyes, because giving into the temptation might mean sleep and he can’t sleep, he can’t yet, he still has so much work to do–

“Keith?”

Someone is touching him, a warm press on his shoulder, and Keith’s eyes fly open as he jerks up, nearly bashing Shiro in the nose, who is crouched beside him.

“Sorry,” Keith gasps out as he scrambles to his feet. The change leaves him light-headed, and he wobbles where he stands, one hand pressed to his head as he blinks spots out of his eyes. He wished he could see outside to know what time it was. Had he closed his eyes for a moment? For the entire night? Has it been a day? 

“You’re still here,” Shiro says standing as well. Watching him rise up makes Keith realize just how much larger the man is, and Keith fights the urge to step back. Especially since Shiro is frowning and sounds displeased. 

Keith panics. He is absolutely sure he doesn’t want to face Shiro’s wrath. Some of the armor he’s found has been  _ ravaged. _

“I-I’ve been working.” Goddess, he wishes he sounded less afraid. But it's probably better than belligerent. “You told me to.”

Shiro’s frown deepens. “I thought you would have called me. To break to eat, if nothing else. When you didn’t, I assumed you had gone to sleep.” Shiro surveys the room, then looks back at Keith. “But you’ve been working.”

“You told me to,” Keith says again, panic starting to fade. Shiro doesn’t seem to be angry, but Keith doesn’t understand. What does Shiro mean, that he thought Keith would call him? 

“I did,” Shiro sighs. He tilts his head. “You’re exhausted.”

Keith grits his teeth. It’s true, but he’s not going to admit weakness. “I’m fine. I can work.”

 “I have no doubt of that. I’m saying, for now, you should rest.”

Keith has no response to that. He follows Shiro out of the treasury and down the hall until they are once again in the opulent bedroom. Shiro waves a hand at the bed, and it is only then that Keith notices that Shiro has changed out of his fine clothes from earlier and… and isn’t wearing a shirt. His chest is broad and scarred, and Keith hurriedly looks away, taking in the soft-looking pants Shiro is at least wearing. He blinks down at Shiro’s bare feet and cannot imagine it is comfortable to walk on the stone floor without cushion.

“Keith.”

Keith lists to the side and has to catch himself, stumbling back a step as Shiro walks forward and gestures at the bed again. “Go on.”

“What?”

“The bed,” Shiro says. “It’s yours for as long as you are with me. Please use it.”

Keith glances at the inviting mattress and plush covers. Is he already asleep and dreaming, maybe? “This can’t be mine.”

“Would you prefer another bed?”

“What? No, I–” 

While Keith chews on his lip, Shiro goes to the bed and turns down the covers, before patting the mattress and smiling invitingly. “It’s comfortable. I sleep here often.”

Keith seizes up. 

And then he must be dreaming, because the next look Shiro gives him is a sad one. “You will sleep alone here, Keith. I have other beds.” Shiro steps away from the bed, and from Keith, walking to the door. “Call my name when you wake, so I can show you to the kitchens. I don’t want you to skip any more meals.”

“Thank you,” Keith says hesitantly, at a loss.

Shiro nods, eyes still sad. “Good night. Rest well.”

Keith stutters out the same and watches as Shiro leaves.

With nothing else to do, and desperately tired, he crawls into bed and quickly drops off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but HOW sad and tragic can I make Keith, is the question


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In time, he hopes, Keith will come to trust him. If he’s allowed time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to return to this again. I know it's a short update, but hopefully I'll be able to write more soon!

Shiro doesn’t want to infringe on Keith’s privacy, but he also is worried about his new guest. Keith doesn’t trust him. Shiro understands this, and understands why, but he doesn’t want this distrust to take a toll on Keith’s well-being.

In time, he hopes, Keith will come to trust him. If he’s allowed time. 

For now, however, Shiro uses one of his magic mirrors to see into Keith’s room. He is gratified and very relieved to see that Keith is, at last, sleeping soundly.

Keith sleeps very still, curled up in one corner of the large bed. The bed is large enough for Keith to spread out to his heart’s content, but instead the man is taking up as little room as he possibly can. He barely moves but for his breathing. It’s as though he taught himself to hide even while unconscious.

The village where Shiro found Keith lashed to a pyre is several days’ flight away, without magic to aid him. He has dark, unpleasant thoughts for this village, and the citizens are very lucky that, for now, Shiro won’t leave Keith alone.

As it gets later and Keith continues to sleep, Shiro allows himself to retire for the night as well. He stays in his human form and takes the other bedroom in his set of smaller caves, so that in the event Keith wakes up and goes looking for him, Shiro will be easy to find. 

This time he remembers to pull on a shirt to sleep in. He had been in his true form when it had crossed his mind to check on Keith, and pulling on pants had been habit that he’s glad he’s grown accustomed to, but shirts were still things he forgot about at home in his own caves. 

But being bare had clearly made Keith uncomfortable. Shiro suspects that he has much to learn about how he may set Keith at ease, and he can only hope he does so quickly.

 

-

 

Shiro wakes early. He likes his sleep and enjoys lazing about in bed and napping during the day, but with a guest to take care of--and one he is not sharing a bed with--he wants to be awake and ready for Keith. He still needs to show him the kitchens, and Keith did not eat dinner last night, even with how hard he worked. No doubt he’ll wake up ravenous, and Shiro doesn’t trust him to ask for a meal or seek out food on his own, even though Shiro had promised him board for the duration of his stay.

A quick glance in the mirror shows Keith in the bathing hall, pulling his shirt over his head. His hair is wet, as it emerges from the neckhole. Shiro watches him fiddle with his sleeves, rubbing his hands over his now-bare wrists. Keith most likely took the wrappings off to bathe. His wrists are still red and raw, though most of the scabbing is gone thanks to the salve.

That’s good. Shiro will ask to redress them. One more day with salve and bandages and they should be fully healed. 

He steps away from the mirror to dress himself, then leaves his room to head to Keith’s. He gets there to find Keith fussing over the bed, pulling the blankets neat and straight and smooth. He turns when he hears Shiro’s footsteps, standing at attention and regarding him with something that isn’t quite suspicion. 

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” Keith says, eyes averting. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Shiro gives him a small smile and doesn’t step further into the room. “I’d like to rebandage your hands before breakfast.”

“You don’t need to,” Keith says quickly. “They’re a lot better now.”

“I’d prefer to, if you don’t mind.”

Keith exhales and goes to perch on the edge of the bed again. “Fine, then. If you want to.”

Shiro nods, pleased, and goes over to him. It doesn’t take much time to tend to Keith’s wrists again, and once he’s tied off and second wrapping, he stands again, moving away. “Follow me, and I’ll show you how to work the kitchen.”

“How to work the kitchen?” Keith asks, standing too. “Am I… do you want me to clean it?”

“No,” Shiro assures him as they walk. “Just how to prepare food.”

“Oh.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Keith droop. “Alright.”

Shiro frowns and turns to face him. “Why are you troubled?”

Keith’s eyes widen, as if shocked to be asked, and then he licks his lips. “I-I don’t know how to make very much. I can cook well enough for my own tastes but nothing… nothing fit for a lord.”

“I’m not a lord,” Shiro says, because he isn’t, and he isn’t dishonest. “And you don’t have to cook for me if you don’t want to. I provide for myself.”

“Oh.” 

Shiro turns again and starts walking again. “It’s not very much further.”

Keith is silent for the rest of the trip to the kitchens, but he lets out a gasp once Shiro leads him into the large, open room. As opposed to Shiro’s many caves and halls that are lit with magicked stones and dragon fire, the kitchen is bright with daylight, as there is a large opening in the top of the cave, a clear plate of glass covering it. It had been tricky to procure a pane of glass that size, and even trickier to place it properly and then enchant it for resilience and weather resistance, but Shiro is very pleased with the result.

He watches Keith look around and around the room. It’s a large cave, to fit Shiro in his true form, but while the furniture is oversized, it is not made for giants. There is a sink and a big counter, a table and chairs, the enchanted cupboard and several non-enchanted ones, and a stove, open which sits the magicked pot. Shiro goes to the pot and motions Keith over.

“This will make a variety of soups and stews for you,” Shiro tells him. He adds, a bit sadly, “It’s also supposed to make custard and other desserts, but something about it is broken and most sweet things come out burnt.”

“Broken?” Keith asks in disbelief. “It’s a pot. If you burn desserts, you need to cook them on lower heat, or turn the flame off sooner.”

Ah, right. Shiro didn’t explain the magical element yet. Figuring that it will be easier and faster to show instead of tell, he picks up the pot’s lid, covers it, and says, “Lamb stew, please.”

Keith frowns, a question in his eyes, before they widen as he’s no doubt hit with the savory smell of freshly made stew. They become as round as saucers ass Shiro takes the lid off the pot again. “See?”

“I… it…” Keith swallows, gaze darting from the pot to Shiro and back again. “More magic?”

“Magic has no consequence here, unless it is used to harm.” Shiro goes to fetch two bowls, holding one out to Keith. “I use magic freely. You are allowed to do the same.”

Keith takes the bowl with trembling hands. “You don’t even know what I can do.”

“I have an idea,” Shiro admits. “The fire on the pyre didn’t touch you.” He spoons stew into his own bowl so that he doesn’t reach out to touch Keith. “It was the smoke that would have killed you, in the end.”

Keith takes the ladle from Shiro when he holds it out and looks to the pot, still quite full. 

“Take as much as you want. I can always make more. Once we’ve finished eating, I’ll show you how to summon food for yourself, which you are allowed to do at any time, for any reason.” At Keith’s sharp look, Shiro continues, “You are allowed to eat whenever you want, and you are free to have as much as you want. It costs me no extra. I would prefer you well-fed and able to work to your fullest potential.”

“I…” Keith ducks his head. “Alright. Thank you.”

“However…”

The wariness returns immediately. “Yes?”

Shiro pretends to pay it no mind, instead going to fetch two spoons and then taking a seat at the table. “I would like to enjoy your company for meals, if you are not opposed.”

“Oh,” Keith says, sounding uncertain. “Alright.”

Shiro can’t help smiling at him. “Thank you, Keith.”

Keith flushes and turns his attention to ladling stew into his own bowl.  
  


-

 

Keith doesn’t say much as they begin breakfast, and he holds his bowl close, eating quickly, as if worried it will be snatched away. But he isn’t completely closed-off and silent, answering questions as Shiro asks them. Shiro does his best not to ask ones that pry too far, for the most part asking Keith about things he enjoys. He watches Keith go quiet for almost a minute before he quietly tells Shiro that he likes working with his hands. He used to make things with wood. 

“Not anymore though,” he says, voice faraway and eyes sad.

 “I’m not very good at working with my hands,” Shiro admits, in part to lighten the mood. He doesn’t have the knack for it. Dragon claws don’t make fine motor skills easy, even if he does have thumbs. “I’m lucky I have magic. To do cooking, for instance.”

Keith’s lips quirk. “Except desserts?”

Shiro marvels at the smile, and shares it. “Except desserts.”

Keith bites his lip. “I… I know how to make some things.”

“You do?”

A nod. “I can make custard. And angel’s cake.”

Shiro’s eyebrows shoot up. “You can?” He doesn’t mean to sound so incredulous, but he wouldn’t have expected someone of Keith’s background to know how to make puddings.

Keith flushes red again. “I… I had a job once working on a farm. Mostly outside work with everyone else, but they liked having big dinners and sometimes the farmer’s wife wanted help in the kitchens. I was the youngest and easiest to spare, so I got sent to her. They’re mostly just lots of stirring, anyway. That’s what she wanted me for.” One shoulder lifts. “But I learn things quick, and she didn’t mind explaining what she was doing. She… she was nice enough.”

“You left, though,” Shiro says. It’s not quite a question, because it’s not his right to ask those questions. “You didn’t stay with them.”

“I burned the barn down,” Keith says all at once, voice flat. Then he looks horrified at himself.

Shiro tilts his head, giving Keith his full attention. “Why?”

Keith is silent for long enough that Shiro doesn’t expect an answer. Then he opens his mouth and says, “the same reason I broke that noble’s nose.” His expression is pure defiance. “So you know what you’re getting into.”

Shiro is equal parts furious and horribly sad. He hopes the barn burned to the ground. But he will not pity, because he knows for certain Keith would not thank him for it. Instead he stands, not acknowledging Keith’s flinch. “Are you finished, or would you like more?”

Keith startles. “What?”

Shiro nods to Keith’s empty bowl and holds up his own. “I’m going to fill my bowl again. I eat a lot. Would you like seconds too?”

Keith blinks, expression turning unreadable. 

“If you’re finished eating, you can go get started in the treasure room. But I’m happy to give you more.”

“Then… thank you,” Keith says after a moment, holding his bowl out to Shiro. “I’d, um. I’d like more, please.”

Shiro nods and heads back to the pot, filling both bowls before returning to the table again. He hands back Keith’s and watches Keith bow his head over it. 

“Thank you,” Keith says again. The words are quiet, but the meaning is loud.

It’s a good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AT THAT WE'RE GETTING SOMEWHERE. \O/


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once breakfast is finished, Keith goes to the treasury room to work. Shiro seems perfectly content to leave him be. After the conversation at breakfast, after the overall tone of the last two days, Keith almost feels like it’s more a show of trust, over a test.
> 
> He’s not sure what he thinks of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Patch. You made me want to write more <3

Once breakfast is finished, Keith goes to the treasury room to work. Shiro seems perfectly content to leave him be. After the conversation at breakfast, after the overall tone of the last two days, Keith almost feels like it’s more a show of trust, over a test.

He’s not sure what he thinks of that.

But he knows how to work, so he does, continuing to sort through things, sometimes marveling at a particular piece of armor or jewelry. He still has no way to keep track of time, but he’s more mindful of how he starts to tire and when he gets hungry.

He’s still uncertain as to what to do next though, so he pushes aside the hesitation and calls Shiro’s name. The man had said he’d come when called and it’s not something Keith plans to take advantage of--gods no, but maybe it won’t hurt to ask another question or two.

Shiro appears in the doorway moments later. He’s dressed in plain black trousers and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. It highlights the strength of his arms and Keith quickly directs his attention elsewhere, feeling unsettled at noticing.

“Yes?” Shiro asks, coming into the room. “Did you need of me?”

And then he pauses and looks about the room. Keith straightens his spine and crosses his arms behind his back trying to tamp down the nervousness. He knows he’s barely made a dent in the chaos of the room. But it’s a large room. Maybe Shiro will understand.

“This is what you did in a day and a half?”

Keith lowers his gaze. Shiro’s disappointment in him cuts more than other employers. Maybe because Shiro has treated him kindly. Keith hadn’t wanted to make a poor showing of what he could do.

So much for that.

“Keith,” Shiro says, commanding his attention. 

Reluctantly, Keith lifts his head. “Yes?”

Shiro smiles at him. It’s--it’s brilliant. Dazzling as it lights up his handsome face and highlights his eyes. Keith immediately feels unworthy of it. He almost misses Shiro’s words, which are, “this is incredible. I can’t believe you’ve gotten so much done so quickly.”

Warmth curls through him at the praise and Keith finds himself flushing, ducking his head again. “I try to work hard.”

“I see that.” Shiro still sounds impressed. “You’ve already done more than I expected. I can’t wait to see what my cave looks like after a few more days.”

“Thank you,” Keith manages.

Shiro shakes his head. “No, thank you. This is wonderful. Oh, but--you called for me. What did you need?”

 _What did you need?_ As if Shiro was ready to just give Keith whatever he asked for. Keith shakes away the thought.

“I-I just… I wanted to know if I should break for midmeal.”

Shiro blinks, and a little troubled frown crosses his face. “Of course. I told you; you needn’t ask for permission.”

Keith bites his lip. It was foolish of him, but, “I know. But you… you said you wanted to share meals with me.”

Just like that, Shiro lights up again. “I did. You remembered. Thank you.”

Keith shrugs. It wasn’t a hardship.

“You don’t mind?”

Keith shakes his head.

“Then let’s go.” Shiro nods toward the cave entrance, still smiling. “No doubt you’ve worked up an appetite."

 

*

 

The days fall into a pattern. Keith gets up and goes to the bathing area, dresses, and meets Shiro for breakfast. Sometimes they talk quietly, sometimes they don’t. Then they part ways, Keith going to the treasury room and Shiro off to whatever it is he does to pass his time. Keith calls Shiro for midmeal, though sometimes Shiro comes to him. Then Keith works some more until supper, followed by bed shortly after. 

The bed continues to be comfortable, the food continues to be good and filling, the work continues to be labor-intensive but manageable.

Shiro continues to be an enigma. Confusing. Distracting.

He seems to enjoy Keith’s company, even when Keith has had a hard night and doesn’t feel up to talking. He keeps his distance when Keith needs distance, but he offers up continual kindness. It leaves Keith feeling off-kilter.

Keith’s wholly unused to things such as free praise in the way Shiro gives it to him. And it makes his face redden and his stomach flutter, and he doesn’t understand his reactions to just… being told that he’s doing a good job. But Shiro seems to truly mean it.

He’s also… he continues to be unfairly handsome and that’s another thing Keith keeps noticing. It’s unsettling, because Keith has never had eyes for someone else before and he isn’t sure what to do about it. Trying to pretend it doesn’t exist hasn’t been working.

On the seventh day, Keith goes to the kitchen to find that Shiro isn’t there. It’s odd, because Keith has never beaten Shiro to the kitchen before. 

He hovers uncertainly at the table, trying to decide what to do. Should he eat by himself? Call for Shiro? Go look for him? He knows the caves a little better now, after a week of living in them, but he hasn’t ventured very far within them. There’s still the strong possibility of getting lost.

But what if Shiro isn’t well? Keith hasn’t seen anyone else in the caves since he was brought to them. No servants, nothing. If Shiro is by himself without attendants and needs help…

He’s just squaring up his shoulders to leave the kitchen when Shiro stumbles through the entrance. And it’s a true stumble; Shiro looks awful. He’s dressed, but his shirt is unbuttoned, his hair hangs in his face, and there are bags under his eyes. He is barefoot, which is something Keith has been noticing about Shiro, even with the uneven stone floors of the caves.

“Shiro?” It’s second-nature to rush forward and reach for him, help him into a seat at the table. 

It’s only as he’s turning back to the table, mug of water in hand, that he realizes that was the first time he’s touched Shiro since coming to the caves. 

He pushes that thought away and takes Shiro’s hand, placing the mug within it. “Drink.”

Shiro nods and lifts the mug to his lips. His arm trembles, and Keith watches to make sure that Shiro has drunk some before he moves to conjure up some breakfast.

He returns with two bowls of porridge and bread, setting Shiro’s bowl and spoon down within easy reach. Shiro doesn’t take the spoon, and Keith frowns.

“If you’re ill, you should be in bed,” he says. 

Shiro shakes his head. “I’m not ill. I just had a bad night. It happens sometimes.”

Keith purses his lips. “Then you should still be resting.”

“I wanted to join you for breakfast,” Shiro says. “I wanted to see you. You’re real.” He reaches out then, fingers just brushing Keith’s own. It’s the first time Shiro has made move to touch Keith as well, since the beginning. “You’re so real, Keith.”

“Of course I’m real.” Keith doesn’t like how breathless and small Shiro sounds. “Just like you are.”

Shiro nods and begins to withdraw his hand. Keith scowls and grasps it, curling their fingers together. “See? We’re real. The both of us.”

Another nod, but Shiro’s trembling seems to slow. After another achingly long moment, it stops. Keith starts to pull away, but freezes when Shiro makes a mournful sound.

“You should eat,” Keith says quietly.

Shiro exhales and sits up a little straighter, relinquishing Keith’s fingers and grabbing the hunk of bread. He tears into it with his teeth and then looks over to Keith. “Have you eaten?”

 _When would I have eaten?_ Keith shakes his head.

“You need to eat,” Shiro says firmly. It’s almost laughable how much the words mirrors Keith’s own, except that while Keith feels at a loss, Shiro sounds stronger at saying them.

Keith slides his bowl toward himself and picks up a spoon under Shiro’s watchful eye. It’s only once he’s had a few bites that Shiro seems to relax.

“Forgive me,” Shiro says after several more minutes. He still sounds tired, but not nearly as drained. “I’m… not myself after bad nights. It can take me some time to come back to my own.”

“I understand, some,” Keith says finishing his bread. “You know I get bad nights too.”

“Yes,” Shiro says. And now he sounds sad. Not pitying, just… sad.

Keith still doesn’t like it. “At least we wake up, in the end.”

Shiro’s gaze flits over Keith’s face and whatever he finds there he must like, because his lips quirk up just a touch. “Yes,” he says. “We wake up in the end, having survived.” He rubs the bridge of his nose, where the scar lies. He does so often; Keith thinks it must be an ingrained habit. Then, softly, “Thank you, Keith.”

Keith did nothing to warrant thanks, but he doesn’t want to throw Shiro’s away. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> Yell with me about sheith on [Twitter?](https://twitter.com/justsayins)


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